Existence
by pluviophile
Summary: AU: For as long as she could remember, terminally ill Hazel Grace has been drawing a boy who she's never met. When they meet by chance will sparks fly or will everything crumble beneath their feet?


********The Fault In Our Stars** **and all the characters belong to John Green. I'm simply borrowing them for the time being and will return them shortly, unharmed. All story ideas go to 0kay Okay, and anything reproduced without her permission will be frowned upon****

_Author's Note: This is my first time writing a fanfic for TFIOS. I must say that I loved the book so much, and it's a big part of my life. I can really relate to it, so my opinion must be biased of course haha. But, I hope you enjoy the fanfiction. I might continue if you leave me a review, follow or favorite (;_

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The sun rose above the trees, slowly waking from its slumber as it peered through the trees like a curious child, sometimes seeming to retract from making its appearance then cautiously coming back up again. The sky was a rosy pink color, and the animals were slowly waking from their slumber, not intending on chattering about their business quite yet. And deep in the heart of it all was a simple tree house.

It was perched in the trees, standing sturdily along the branches which kept it from toppling over. The old, rickety treehouse in all its sublime was undeniably the haven of children that passed through the beautiful forest, but not many came by due to the fact that mothers used tales of 'scary forests' to scare their children into eating their broccoli. A fat, orange tomcat draped lazily at the window, languidly licking its paw before meowing softly.

Soft whispers came from inside, and a small girl chatted quietly, eyes alight with wonder, her imagination running wild as she sat in the treehouse, the light filtering through the trees and resting in the treehouse, the soft rays warming her cold skin. She talked idly to no one in particular, continuing her drawing…

Seven-year-old Hazel Grace Lancaster watched, fascinated, as her pencil moved seemingly by itself, drawing intricate patterns and lines, which seemed like a great big puzzle and she needed to crack the mystery, eyes gleaming as her hands seemed to do its own thing, briskly brushing over the white, clean paper as she drew and drew, utterly mesmerized by the way her hand moved, like it knew what it was doing. Hazel's green eyes widened, and her mouth dropped to the floor as she scurried back, scrambling back in surprise until her back hit the wall of the treehouse. Hazel looked down at her hand in bewilderment, but it looked the same as it did just moments before, innocently still pale and small. No change. Letting out a shaky breath, Hazel drew her knees to her chest before blinking in confusion, heart beating in fear. Whatever just happened scared her. But curiosity always got the best of a child, and Hazel couldn't help but crawl back over to where her paper sat harmlessly in the middle of the treehouse, glimmering slightly due to the rising sun.

Her hands flew to her mouth, and she let out a small gasp of alarm, eyes bulging out of her head as she looked down. On the paper there was a well-drawn picture of a boy. There was no way that she had drawn that by memory. Hazel's drawings only consisted of cartoon mermaids and princesses; this was much too good for anyone to draw. His face looked so touchable, Hazel was mildly beginning to wonder what would happen if she reached down to stroke the paper.

It was a boy, not much older than herself she might add. He had straight, short mahogany hair and big eyes, staring imploringly back at her. His small nose was turned up ever so slightly, and his mouth was curled up in a small, half smile. She looked at his eyes. They seemed so much older than the rest of him. They looked weary; exhausted. There was a tired expression on his face, which Hazel slightly distasted. No child should look like they had matured must faster than they should have.

The reason why she just randomly drew a boy she had never seen before shocked Hazel. Who was he? Surely she would've remembered his face, so charismatic and mysterious. Confusing, questioning thoughts pierced her mind, and Hazel hesitated, looking down at her works not sure if she should be completely delighted or horrified.

Hazel slowly, tentatively put her hand to the paper and ran her finger down the length of his round face. Sitting back, utterly enthralled by her newfound skill, Hazel smiled and twirled the pencil between her fingers, a smile tugging itself up onto her face. She ran quickly to the small pencil box and dug out some tape before snagging a couple pieces off and taping the drawing to the treehouse wall and took a step back, admiring her handiwork. Her fingers twitched in delight, and she itched to draw yet another picture of the boy who just caught her attention and came into her life so suddenly without any warning at all. Hazel cleared the floor and rolled onto her stomach, drawing again, her pencil slowly moving up and down the lengths of the paper.

That was the first time she drew Augustus Waters.


End file.
